85 days
by MoniqueD
Summary: Rick & Kate's recipe for romance, created between seasons 2 & 3. Start with heat and a hasty rendezvous. Add misunderstandings and alcohol and watch the mixture hit the boiling point. Stir in a handful of blood and an eyeful of tears and watch the truth rise to the top. Serve with snacks, wine, Lady Gaga. Enjoy! Please review.Thanks.


The water flowing beneath the old bridge sparkled with a thousand blades of sunlight. Detective Kate Beckett sauntered to the centre of the bridge and leaned up against the sun-warmed iron railing. A splash made her look down at the pond, where an orgy of mottled fish hovered near the surface, their ridiculous mouths gaping grotesquely. _Sorry guys, no crumbs for you today. _Kate closed her eyes and tipped her face up to receive the sun's full blast. Tense muscles in her shoulders relaxed, but the heat was relentless and soon her neck was slick with sweat. Sunglasses would have been nice, but they were sitting on the dashboard of her car, parked too many blocks away. With her eyes shut tight, Kate gave in to the moment and let her imagination run wild. Hot, fetid air wafted up from below, but where the pond had been was now a mysterious swamp teeming with life. Clouds of giant flies hovered and danced above the snouts of massive alligators dozing in the sun. A chorus of hidden frogs belched out their music while graceful herons poked through labyrinths of steaming vegetation. It was primordial, fascinating, and…a baby's cry yanked Kate out of the tropical daydream and brought the world back into shimmering focus. _Darn, I wanted to meet Swamp Thing_. She blinked and turned away from the sun. Heat waves came every summer, it was nothing new. Everyone suffered for a few weeks, then breathed a sigh of relief when the cool air returned. Well, not everyone. Some people went to the Hamptons for the summer.

For the hundredth time, Kate asked herself why she had accepted Castle's invitation to meet, and the answer was always the same – _because you are a masochist._ She should have simply ignored his text message, but no, she hit the reply button. Why did he want to see her? Why a message now, after all this time? Perhaps he had come to beg forgiveness; maybe he wanted to come back to work at the 12th. Was his ego really so colossal? No matter, she would meet with the elusive Mr. Castle, have a cordial conversation and send him packing back to his celebrity sandbox. Her team didn't need Castle; in fact, they operated more efficiently without his wild theories. A familiar voice called her name. She turned slowly, reluctant to look, yet unable to resist.

Richard Castle strode confidently onto the bridge, and her pulse pumped in time with his steps until she was certain her already weakened heart would explode. Bold plans dissolved like mist in the sunlight, and courage conceded to desire. He stopped a pace away and grinned. Kate's swift but thorough glance revealed a rugged, tanned face with no trace of the worry lines of winter. He was dressed casually in khaki shorts that revealed strong, tanned legs, and a white polo shirt that showed off his broad chest. A pair of worn leather sandals that shouted "I'm on vacation!" completed the picture. Her voice seemed to have vanished somewhere in her throat, so Kate just bit her lip and stared in wonder as he smiled his wide smile and opened his shapely mouth.

"Hi, sorry I'm late." He tucked his sunglasses over the V of his shirt and locked his blue-eyed gaze on her.

Speak, she told herself. "Ah...no problem, I was just admiring the view."

"You look fantastic, Kate."

_So do you._ Castle was standing too close, but there was nothing she could do about it, so she leaned against the railing and looked down at the water. "So, what brings you back to the sticky city in August? Too much sun and sex?"

"Ouch, that was below the belt."

"Did you finish your book?"

"Can we go somewhere and talk?"

"We're on my favourite bridge in Central Park, so talk." Kate deliberately kept her gaze downwards, because looking anywhere else just tested her crumbling resolve.

"I know it's your favourite bridge, that's why I...oh hell, forget it."

Kate heard a deep sigh, and she peeked at him from under her lashes. He was frowning, and had evidently decided that the fish were a good diversion from an awkward conversation.

"Those things are damn ugly." He stated flatly.

"Careful with the insults, those ugly guys are big enough to bite your hand off."

"I've missed you terribly, Kate."

Missed her? The fish in the water below were laughing now; their bulging eyes stared and their crazy mouths formed soundless words – HAHAHA, SUCKER, DANGER, and many more that she didn't want to know. She closed her eyes to make them go away.

"Please come over for dinner tonight. How about 7:00? Mother will be there."

"Is that a good idea?"

"It's the best idea I've had in a long time, although we could do without mother."

His friendly eyes told her to say yes, and Kate could find no reason to say no. "I can't make it for dinner, but how about drinks?" She couldn't stop herself from smiling, "the ocean breeze really agrees with you, Castle, I've never seen you so...so..." she floundered.

He reached out to grasp her hands. "Come with me to the Hamptons, Kate, you'd love it out there."

Kate's jaw dropped open in that silly way it did when she was flabbergasted. "Um, sorry, but summer is over and I'm fresh out of vacation days." _and I don't do threesomes, big guy._

He seemed to expect her rejection, and grinned confidently. "I won't give up. One day you'll say yes. See you at seven."

His cool lips grazed her cheek before he turned and disappeared into the lunch-time crowd. Kate touched her face and pondered her state of sanity. Had she just agreed to having drinks with a man who'd blown her off for his ex-wife? A frenzy of liquid movement rose from the pond, and as she peered down, new words gaped up at her, as if the fish knew exactly what she was thinking - FUN, ROMANCE, KISS. "Oh, shut up! I don't take advice from fish!" _What was I thinking? Soon I'll be ready for a padded cell. _Kate enjoyed one more minute of hot breeze on her face, but dreaded the gritty journey back to the precinct. On the other hand, she brightened at the thought of a quiet afternoon at her desk, fantasizing about Rick swimming naked in the ocean, and Gina trapped in a riptide, screaming for help.

Later that day at the Castle loft…

Martha Rogers was a reasonably patient woman, but this was just too much. She tapped her long, red fingernails on the kitchen counter while she listened to her son ramble on ad nauseam about none other than Kate Beckett._ Kate's hair has grown so much over the summer, Kate has such a nice tan; Kate's eyes sparkled in the sunlight, blah, blah, blah. _Martha had heard quite enough about Kate, thank you, and wanted to move on to other subjects, such as the dinner menu. How could they purchase groceries without a menu? The wonderful, beautiful detective would be here in a few hours and the refrigerator was full of nothing but cold air and beer. Why couldn't Richard focus for five minutes for Heaven's sake? She held up her hand and halted his tirade in mid-sentence.

"Richard, stop please." He looked up as if he had only just noticed his mother standing beside him. Martha recognized that spaced out look on his face, and it meant trouble on the horizon. "I ask again, what do you want to eat tonight? Pork? Beef? Worms? It's a simple question."

"No dinner."

"We could bake some nice plump chicken breasts."

"No dinner."

"How about juicy legs or thighs?"

"Breasts, legs, thighs, it doesn't matter; they all make me think of Kate!"

Martha laughed; she'd never seem him so worked up over a woman. "Oh my, this is going to be so much fun. How about fish?"

"Fish?" Richard ran his hands through his hair and his eyes flashed with irritation. "Fish? I don't want to see another damn fish."

Ah yes, thought Martha, the horizon was getting stormier by the minute. "Richard, darling, you simply must relax. Leave everything to me."

"We're not having dinner, so please just get some simple snacky thingies, okay?"

Martha Rogers pinched her son's cheek. "I think I can manage it. Maybe you should write a love scene to get you in the mood."

"You have all the answers, don't you Mother dear."

"Yup, I'm the Guru of life. See you soon."

A few hours later...

Castle savoured his 3rd bottle of Stella. His mother had not yet returned, and he wondered if she had decided to ditch him altogether. He'd been restless ever since meeting Kate in the park, and the beer was doing a great job of mellowing both his brain and body. Castle moved to the window and stared out to the street below, where countless brave Manhattanites slogged, zombie-like, through the super-heated concrete jungle. They didn't need to hear the doomsday air quality warnings to know that this summer was the hottest in recent memory. Molten asphalt stuck to the soles of their shoes, and the paltry breeze that managed to slink between the buildings rewarded them with the rank stench of river rot. New York heat waves had a way of pounding his flesh to a pulp and throwing his body on the sidewalk as crow food. Castle turned away from the window and caught sight of his mother lighting colourful scented candles all over the loft. He'd been too absorbed in his own thoughts to hear her arrive, and now the aromas of berries, vanilla and cinnamon all crossed paths in the air. Smelly candles were not on his agenda, so he followed discretely behind Martha and blew out every candle that she had so carefully lit. When he had completed the job, Castle tiptoed guiltily back to the kitchen and reached for another beer.

"Richard, how could you!"

"Sorry, but I don't want the place smelling like a house of cheap wax."

"These are not cheap candles, and besides, they heighten the mood."

"Mood? I'll be lucky if she even shows up, never mind the mood. What did you get?"

"Go and look for yourself, if you can find the way out of your personal ozone layer."

He poked around the collection on the counter and spied frozen sausage rolls, hunks of cheese, shrimp, and an abundance of fruit. "Well, at least we won't go hungry."

"You really should slow down on the alcohol, Richard."

In response, he chugged the rest of the bottle. "I'll slow down if you do, mother."

Martha poured a generous glass of white wine into an oversized glass and held it up in a toast. "Cheers, kiddo. Kate will have a good laugh when she arrives to find you slobbering all over the sausage rolls."

"Thank you for that riveting image. Will you take care of this stuff?"

A scowl and a dismissive wave were her replies as she began to stash the food into the refrigerator. Castle escaped to the privacy of his office and closed the door. _Why am I so nervous? _The beer-soaked neurons inside his brain struggled to fire at half speed. He leaned back in the leather chair and closed his eyes in an attempt to come up with some sort of plan for the evening. Food, wine, beautiful woman. No daughter. So far, so good. Add interfering mother, not so good. Add romantic fireplace, more wine. He was taking a risk; there was no doubt about it. What if Kate decided that her bathtub was more fun than an evening with him? Tonight he would turn up the Castle charm to maximum potency and watch Kate try to resist him. She didn't stand a chance. It seemed like only a minute later that he heard Martha calling.

"Richard, where are you? Kate is here!"

Already? Kate had arrived and here he was with sweaty palms and thumping heart, thinking brave strategies like a bewildered soldier of love. He stuffed his hands inside the pockets of his khakis and sauntered towards the door. Kate and his mother stood close together in the foyer, whispering conspiratorially. _One guess as to who they're talking about. _He watched them and silently devoured every inch of Kate with his eyes. Her perfect lips formed a perfect smile; her thick, flowing hair caressed her neck like a mink scarf, and her tight ass and long legs begged to be touched.

"Hello Kate."

She looked up and smiled, but her dark eyes became instantly alert. "Castle."

He turned to Martha, "Do I smell something burning?"

Martha played along, diva that she was. "I think you might be right." She touched Kate's hand. "Kate dear, please make yourself at home while I tend to the snacky thingies." Martha gave him an exaggerated wink and scurried off to the kitchen.

Kate thrust her hand in her bag and offered up a bottle. "I brought a white to complement the mysterious reds you love so much."

He nodded in approval and waved her to follow him to the kitchen. "California Chardonnay, one of your favourites." Castle snuggled the bottle into the refrigerator next to a carton of strawberries. "We can have it later with some cheese." He then poured two glasses of the red and led them toward the fireplace. "So, detective Beckett, what news from the station?"

"No news." She accepted her glass and took a tentative sip.

"Are you working a juicy case right now?"

"Negative. I'm doing that paperwork you work so hard to avoid."

"I'm disappointed."

"Yeah well, we don't all lead such exciting lives."

She sipped again, and he felt the stirrings of panic at her decidedly cool attitude. Well, what exactly was he expecting? He took a large gulp of wine and tapped the fireplace ignition button**. **Instantly, white flames whooshed into the hearth, and then settled into a comforting pattern. So what if it was like throwing a blanket on a sauna, he loved the fireplace, and he needed all the help he could get.

"So, Castle, how was your summer? I'm guessing you needed a break from Gina sitting on you?"

Castle sputtered and felt a drop of wine hanging on the edge of his mouth. He coughed and licked his lips. "Actually, I delivered my final manuscript to Paula. Nikki's new adventures will hit the shelves soon, and I should be able to get you an advance copy."

"Thanks, I'd like that, but can you wrestle it from Gina's hands?"

There was nothing he could say, absolutely nothing. Kate was in an argumentative mood, and it would take a miracle to make her drop her formidable defences. He turned away before a regrettable retort could surface. "Please excuse me; I'll be back in a couple of minutes." He found solace in cutting up a hunk of Swiss cheese, one eye on the knife and the other searching for the woman who had vanished from sight. She was probably sharpening her sword in preparation for battle. Castle tasted a piece of cheese, suddenly famished, and the sausage rolls smelled heavenly. He lifted a hot one from the baking sheet and took a bite. "Yikes, one of these things is probably 100% of my daily sodium allowance."

"You insisted on simple, Richard."

"So glad I did." He snatched another one as Martha slid the sizzling rolls onto a plate and shoved it into his hands.

"Here, take these sodium bombs, and top up my wine."

Castle deposited the hot rolls onto the serving counter, and as he chewed, wondered just how much pain Kat's sword could deliver. If her aim was true, his heart would split in half and he might not feel a thing, but if torture was her intention, the options were endless. He swallowed another sausage roll and downed the entire glass of wine. If he had to go, at least he would go out happy. He hiccupped and went in search of warrior woman.

A few hours later…

Martha Rogers resigned herself to the role of scullery maid and gathered up the dishes. What a waste. Her son and his beautiful muse had spent all evening locked in a game of "who can stay silent the longest" while the sexual tension simmered and the food withered. Martha had other plans for the night, and they did not include watching Richard and Kate act like teenagers at a dance. Plates clashed, a fork fell and clanged against the chair leg. Martha paused to catch her breath, and then attacked the left-over food. A hunk of dried up cheese fell victim to the garbage disposal with a disgusting sucking noise. Stale crackers and cold sausage rolls were sliced into mush in seconds. Bacteria-ridden shrimp surrendered to the blades with a slight crunch. A gulp of white wine slid down her throat with no effort whatsoever. She jammed the last of the cutlery into the dishwasher, and a wayward blob of shrimp sauce jumped onto her sleeve. "How wonderful. Time for a refill."

Martha sipped her wine and observed the two non-love birds hovering near the fireplace. What was it about that damn fireplace, anyway? True, it was romantic; she and Chet had discovered the power of the flames this past winter, but this was August in a heat wave, and the air conditioning was running full tilt. It was clear to her now that Richard and his beautiful detective were not hungry for shrimp or cheese; they were ravenous for each other. Martha saw the open desire stamped on Richard's face, and the temptation that flowed from Kate's eyes whenever she glanced his way. She moved to a new vantage point near the sofa, but the couple was oblivious to her presence, tuned only to each other and the silky orange flames. Their dance of seduction was as elemental as the fire itself, and when these two stubborn people finally succumbed to their lust, everyone would feel the earth move. It was only a matter of time. Martha touched her son's forearm and spoke softly.

"Richard."

A moment lapsed until he acknowledged her. "Yes, mother?"

"Chet is waiting for me."

He smiled absently. "Another night of sex and movies?"

"I hope so, but I do hate to see you unhappy, Richard. Will you go back to the Hamptons tomorrow?"

"Nothing could keep me away."

"Nothing?"

"Well, maybe Hurricane Kate."

Martha stroked his cheek affectionately. "That's one storm you should not run from; Kate is crazy about you and I just don't know why you can't kiss and make up."

"That would be nice, but it's not so simple. We have a summer of discontent to sort out."

"Well, talking would certainly get the ball rolling. Don't wait up for me, I won't be back tonight." She turned to Kate, "Goodnight Kate, let's gossip again soon."

Kate looked up and lifted her free hand in a feeble wave. "'Love to. Night Martha."

Martha sighed and slowly climbed the stairs to her room. Perhaps they would break the destructive mood and open their hearts to the possibilities. She turned for a final glance to see Kate moving towards the sofa. Well, that was a start. She sprinted up the last few steps and closed the bedroom door, her mind already pondering which of her new evening gowns she would model for Chet. "Oh hell, why choose? I'll just bring them all."

She was gone, and Castle certainly couldn't blame his mother for wanting to get away. The air inside the loft was tainted with tension, and the two of them were now certified experts at sullen scowls and desperate smiles. He stopped his obsessive pacing and stood near the sofa. Kate looked up at him and seemed to want to speak, but all that came out of her mouth was a half-hearted squeak. She sat like a sulking decoration, certainly unaware of the fact that she looked demure, sexy, and dangerous all at the same time. Her wine glass was almost untouched. Why had she accepted his invitation? What the hell was he supposed to do**, **just drive away in the morning and forget her?Not bloody likely. He was frustrated and drinking too much, but the alcohol was the only sympathetic presence in the room. Damn that Demming, he still had his hold on her after all this time, but damn if he would let her go home without a kiss. Castle strode back to the kitchen and reached for another bottle of red wine. He'd already had more than enough to drink, but he was well beyond caring. The long, stubborn cork squeaked and squelched in its endless journey up the neck of the bottle, and he eased it out of the opening with a flourish.

At the sound of his cheer and the pop, Kate swivelled her head around to look. Ha, let her scowl, he could do what he wanted, and Castle knew what he wanted. He turned on Alexis' IPod stereo, and immediately the room was filled with the strange but sensual beat of Lady Gaga. His hips moved along with the music and he cursed himself for not turning the stereo on much earlier. He poured a generous taste of wine into two clean glasses and carried them over to the sofa. Kate was up on her feet in a second, arms crossed.

"Relax, Kate, I brought you a fresh glass of red."

"You're drunk and I'm going home now."

"Please stay." He deposited the glasses on the coffee table. "Look, no more wine." He grasped her hand and pulled her towards him, but she shook him off.

"Do I need my pistol?"

"Kiss me and tell me you don't want me."

"Don't do this."

"I'm a lot of man, sweet Kate, and I can make you forget all about Tom." His hand grazed her cheek, and he moved in closer, but she flitted out of reach. He followed, pumped for a confrontation.** "**Do you think of me when he makes love to you?" _Just one kiss and you're mine, sweet Kate. _"Tell me." A dangerous mix of desire and anger stirred his blood, but Katestared defiantly, her lips soft and enticing. _Just one kiss. _He could take her right here on the sofa, just like he'd dreamed so many times. He advanced, and Kate's matching backwards step made her bump hard into the sofa and land ass-first on the cushion.

Kate's palm landed square on his chest. "Back off. What the hell is your game, Castle?"

"I'm way past games, woman." Another step. "Tell me why you're still with that schmuck."

Her finger jabbed his chest. "Is that what this show is all about? Cave man jealousy?" Kate stared at him, her eyes wild with anger. "Tom is ancient history."

"What?"

"You heard me. My summer has been long and lonely, but you were busy. I get it."

Kate chugged her wine and clunked the empty glass on the coffee table. Castle stood rooted to the spot, not sure if his alcohol-soaked brain had registered her words correctly. "Ancient history? But when…"

"85 days ago."

85 days. Some stupid song he didn't know came on the stereo, but the music died with a flick of Kate's finger. The sudden silence left him confused, and he struggled to speak, the words nearly choking him. "I kicked Gina out of the beach house after a week."

Her intake of breath was audible, her voice weak with shock. "You did? But…"

"You were in my dreams every night." Castle's heart thumped on overdrive while Kate paced around like a caged lioness.

Her voice came out tinged with panic. "I don't believe this."

"So, all this time, I was alone in the beach house by the sea, and you were alone here in the hot city. I wanted you, you wanted me. Did you call me?"

"N-No. Did you call me?"

"No, I did not." Castle pounded the counter, furious at the revelations. "This is so bloody ridiculous it borders on the sublime." The wine swished, he took another sip but it burned his stomach like red acid. Kate was back down on the sofa, her head in her hands, shoulders shaking. Both their hearts had been pierced by the sword, and now they were bleeding with nothing to stop the flow. Where did this leave them? Every muscle ached, every nerve pinched. Kate's voice drifted in from the battlefield on a wave of raw fear.

"Rick, are you okay?"

"No."

"We're both confused, please stay with me."

"No."

"Please…I'm sorry for doubting you."

Suddenly she was hanging on his arm, and her beautiful eyes brimmed with the tears he desperately wanted to shed. Physical pain stabbed through his anguish. Castle let go of his glass and watched the crystalline shards spray out in every direction on the kitchen floor. He flexed his hand and swayed on his feet. The battle was over.

Kate Beckett was numb with shock and their impossible situation. She wanted to run into the street and scream; she wanted to rewind back 85 days and start all over had to be a way out of this miserable mess, how could they have been so selfish? She watched anxiously as Rick strode swiftly to his bedroom, and cringed when the door slammed hard enough to re-balance a framed print on the wall. She gnawed on a fingernail and stood mesmerized, staring at the blood-red wine spreading slowly into an amoebic glob on the floor. Shards of glass gleamed dangerously. This was terrible, she'd never seen Rick so furious and out of control. He must have injured his hand, he must be bleeding. She wiped the tears from her face and took a deep breath. Crying would come later, right now she was desperate to see Rick.

"Rick, can you hear me?" What was he doing in there? The sounds coming from the bedroom made her shrink back, but she put her ear to the door crack and listened. Rick was spewing out every expletive in the dictionary, and it sounded like some of them were bouncing off the walls and hitting him back. Slam, crack, then nothing. Just as Kate turned the doorknob, the silence was replaced by a thumping sound. As she slipped inside the room, her eyes flew open in horror: Rick was smacking his head on the bedroom wall. Her heart cried out in sympathy and love, and her body felt the pain of every blow. Kate steeled her courage and approached; it was time for the healing to begin and she knew exactly where to start.

"Rick?" Kate lifted her hand to his shoulder and squeezed. "Rick, please stop." Her message evidently penetrated, for he stopped and turned to her with eyes reflecting pain and confusion.

"Kate?"

"I'm here for you."

"I cut my hand."

Kate grimaced at the rivulets of blood dribbling down his arm into the sleeve of his t-shirt. Even in the dim light of the bedroom, she could see that his right hand was a bloody mess and the wall was a crime scene. "Bathroom." She pointed and he walked silently. The bright fluorescent lights in the washroom held no mercy, and she frowned at their reflections in the vanity mirror. Rick stood behind her, eyes downcast, his face pale. Kate turned on the taps and held his hand under the stream of warm water. Within seconds, the white porcelain sink was covered in bright red streaks, and her hands were covered in his blood. There was always so much blood. He winced and whined.

"It hurts like hell."

"I know it does." Rick stared with vacant eyes. Was he in shock? The blood washed away and she examined his injuries more closely. A jagged shard was still embedded in his palm, so she tweezed it between her fingernails and pulled. The fresh wound gushed and Castle yelped and yanked his hand back, but Kate hung on.

"Sorry, this is painful for both of us." she whispered.

Kate admired the powerful hands safely enclosed inside her slender fingers. These big hands could comfort a daughter, caress a lover, and write a masterpiece. They could easily squeeze a wine glass to pulp. Should she risk a glance at him? Would he notice her tears mixing with the bloody water gurgling down the drain? She turned off the taps.

"Kate, look at me."

"I'm busy. Just hold your hand over the sink for a minute, it's still bleeding. We need an old towel you can throw out, and some bandages; where are they?"

"Forget the towel, look at me, woman."

Kate tried to turn away, but he grasped her chin and had no choice but to meet his eyes. She cursed her quivering lips and the fresh tears that decorated her cheeks, for there was no hiding under the unforgiving light. His eyes softened as he examined her face, and he used his thumb to gently caress the moisture from her upper lip. "Kate, I love you."

Her knees buckled and she held the sink for support. Rick released her and sighed. The nearest towel was hanging ready on the hook, but it was white. Kate grabbed it and wrapped it around his hand, and they both watched in fascinated horror as the fluffy white fabric immediately sprouted a dozen bright red splotches. With another loud sigh, Rick reached into an upper cabinet and pulled out a roll of gauze. Kate removed the bloody white towel, folded it neatly and dropped it onto the floor. She then tore open the package and proceeded to wrap his hand in layer upon layer of the soft bandage until no more blood could escape. "We need to cut this."

"Let me." His teeth left a ragged edge, but it worked. She secured the loose end and kissed his hand.

He smiled, admiring the wrapping. "Thanks, it feels better already. What else do you recommend, Doctor Beckett?"

"Bed rest and painkillers. You're lucky you don't need stitches."

"Bed rest for a few cuts?" His eyes were sparkling with mischief.

"This is a shock to the system, we have to be careful."

"What about scars?"

"Scars are part of life; years from now we'll be admiring these scars on your hand and thinking back to the mistakes we made."

"Our scars, Kate, and mistakes are also part of life. I'll skip the drugs; I don't want to dull any of my senses tonight."

She searched his eyes and found them clear and bright. "There's more blood inside your sleeve." With pounding pulse, Kate concentrated her efforts on the heavy belt buckle until it finally loosened, then inch by inch, she pulled the shirt up his long torso. "Arms up, silly." He complied and she leaned forward to cover the warm exposed skin with her lips. He gasped. She continued kissing and lifting until the shirt was over his head and on the floor. "Magnificent." The white towel served once more to wipe away the smears of blood from his bicep. "Perfect." His long arms encircled her and she laid her head against his warm skin.

"Thank you, my love."

There was nothing to say, and everything to feel: his strong heart beating beneath a layer of flesh; his muscle and bone, perfectly moulded into broad shoulders that could hold the weight of the world. Kate released him and grasped his bandaged hand. The cuts would heal nicely, along with their severely bruised egos. "I should clean up the mess on the floor…"

"No, we'll do it in the morning." Rick pulled her back and kissed her lips. "I still plan on leaving tomorrow, so, please, will you come with me to my humble shack on the beach? You can drive the Ferrari."

"Nice, but I didn't realize you had a shack. Better tell me more."

"It's modest but enchanting, and you'll never want to leave."

"Never?"

"Not when your every need is my pleasure."

Kate breathed in his scent, content to stay within the strong embrace. "Hmm, my needs are modest, really, just a million stars in the sky at night."

"We'll have 2 million from the back porch."

"Breathtaking sunrises."

He chuckled and nuzzled her neck. "Done. Any other modest needs?"

Kate smiled, wishing they were already there. "Oh, one or two that we'll save for later."

"Right now I have only one." His words fell like hot velvet against her ear. "I'd like to get started on that bed rest you prescribed. Will you tuck me in?"

Kate walked with him into the bedroom. "I'd love to."

The end.

"


End file.
